


Third Best

by VibraniumHeart



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Actor Chris Evans, F/M, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Name-Calling, Parenthood, RPS - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 21:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibraniumHeart/pseuds/VibraniumHeart
Summary: Dad Chris Evans fluff. Smut right out the gate. A prick interviewer. Actual hero RDJ. Daddy/daughter feels. First attempt RPF.





	Third Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadsingh77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadsingh77/gifts).



> Sorry this took so long and even more sorry if it's trash. The rough streak continues for me, aha. These two tooth infections (dentist's fault) are basically refusing to heal, and I've got teething kids + barely any proper sleep stop it. Hoping today Mark's the end of some of the bullshit 2019 keeps chucking at me. (For real though, I'm fine. 2019 just needs to get the fuck off my proverbial nutsack and let a bitch catch her breath before flinging more shit at me. Both literal and figurative shit, probably. Toddlers are adorable savages.) 
> 
> I hope this isn't the flaming pile of garbage I believe it is. And if it is please forgive me.

You woke to warm, open mouthed kisses against the back of your shoulder--rough stubble dragging over your skin. Teeth grazed the juncture where neck met shoulder, a calloused palm sliding down your bare stomach, over the growing swell, to the band of your underwear.

 

Despite having just woken you were already wet, fighting the urge to squirm against the hand teasing you.

 

A dark chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. "I know you're awake."

 

Stubbornly you kept your eyes shut. "Am not." You mumbled into your pillow. 

 

Another chuckle as Chris' hand dipped beneath the line of your underwear, long fingers dragging over your wet folds until you gasped.

 

"How about now?" Chris teased.

 

"Nope." The word was breathy, tight from your throat. 

 

He stroked over your folds again, circling your clit in a feather light touch. 

 

It wasn't long before you were grinding needfully against his hand, pressing your ass back against his hard cock. Your panties were dragged down and off before he lifted your leg upwards, hitching it over his own hip.

 

The head of his cock nudged your folds, coating himself in your slick without pushing in. "Love how wet you always are for me. So fuckin' good to me, baby." 

 

Your fingers twisted the sheets, mouth dropping open on a whimper. "Chris, please."

 

He moaned sinfully, nipping at your bared throat. "You want me?" He drawled, nudging just the tip past your folds to tease you.

 

"Yes." You begged, shamelessly rubbing yourself against his cock as best you could. "Please, I need you."

 

He pushed into you almost painfully slowly, large palm resting against your pubic bone as his middle finger rubbed your clit in tight circles. 

 

Your hand flew back into his hair, gripping and tugging hard as he thrust hard and slow into your already quivering pussy. 

 

"So fuckin' needy for me. Your pussy feels so good around my cock." Another hard thrust. "Already got me close, bad girl." He nipped your earlobe and gave it a tug.

 

You could do nothing but whimper and moan, barely able to stutter out his name between ragged breaths. 

 

"You close too, honey?" He all but cooed, grinding his pelvis against your ass to rock his aching cock into your gspot. 

 

Frantically you nodded. "You want my cum inside you? Want me to fill your greedy cunt?" 

 

You loved when he talked dirty to you, the rough timbre of his voice nearly sending you over the edge. 

 

"Yes yes yes. Please, sir." 

 

His hips stuttered at the title, teeth marking your shoulder once more. "Then cum for me, right now. C'mon baby, drench my fuckin' cock like a good little slut." 

 

It sent you rocketing over the edge, vision spotting as your walls clenched around his cock so tightly he couldn't move. His own orgasm rent through him, cock pulsing deeply inside you as he chanted your name roughly in your ear. 

 

He kept you wrapped in his arms a while longer before sighing, tipping your head to him to steal a proper kiss. "I have to get ready and go, love. Miss me when I'm gone?"

 

A giggle bubbled up from your chest. "Always do, Captain." You teased with a wink. Your husband rolled his eyes playfully before stealing another kiss and slipping out from the covers. 

 

It was hours later that you found yourself on the couch, a bag of potato chips and a jar of nutella on your lap. Chris' face was on the screen, paper cup of coffee in his hands. 

 

Even though you saw him daily you couldn't help but watch his interviews. He insisted it wasn't necessary, but you were hardly being forced to watch. 

 

Most of the questions went off without a hitch, the interviewer asking questions to try and weasel spoilers from him and Robert. 

 

And then the mood had changed with a simple question. One you had expected.

 

"So, Chris, we understand your wife is expecting." He smiled.

 

Chris practically beamed. "She is! A few more weeks and we'll know if it's a boy or a girl."

 

The interviewer nodded. "That's gotta be exciting! Are you planning to announce the gender to the world?" He paused for a second. "Fans are dying to know. Captain America becoming a dad for the first time is huge!"

 

Chris leaned back as if he'd been shot, a familiar edge creeping into his eyes. A subtle tick of his jaw. 

 

"Second time." He corrected. 

 

The interviewer frowned, looking over his notes. "I'm sorry? Is she having twins?" 

 

Robert raised a brow, opening his mouth to speak but Chris beat him to the punch.

 

"No. I'm talking about my daughter, (D/N)."

 

A look of understanding crossed his features. "Ah, yes. Your step daughter."

 

Chris narrowed his eyes slightly. "She isn't my step anything. She's my daughter."

 

The interviewer looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes. "Sure. Absolutely."

 

Chris' jaw ticked again, but he wasn't done speaking. 

 

"But this one will actually be yours." The interviewer quipped, pushing his black frame glasses higher up his nose as he consulted his notes.

 

Your mouth dropped open along with Chris', the only thing keeping him rooted to his chair was Robert's sudden and tight grip on his arm. Despite the obvious fury in Chris' eyes, Robert's voice was even but firm. 

 

"This interview is over. Your blatant disrespect and, frankly, closedminded nature, are to thank for that."

 

With his free hand he unclipped his mic smoothly, unlatching it from the collar of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. The interviewer, for his part, looked stunned. His mouth dropped open, brows furrowed together as if he didn't understand what he had done.

 

"I...you...you can't do that!" He sputtered angrily.  

 

"Actually, I can. And I just did." His voice was more muffled since he'd taken off his mic, but not enough for you to miss his next words.

 

"I'll be placing a personal phone call to your boss once we leave, Mr. Thomas. You should consider yourself lucky."

 

Robert moved swiftly to unclip Chris' mic, while still standing between him and the interviewer. He wasn't stupid. He knew, given half the chance that Chris would deck the interviewer clear into next week. Not that he would blame him. It also wouldn't be his first time walking out on a rude interviewer.

 

Your mouth was hanging helplessly open, your phone vibrating like crazy on the table before you. But you hardly even registered it, so shocked by what was taking place on the screen before you. 

 

"You can't just leave!" Mr. Thomas shouted, his face turning a ruddy color in his anger. Robert smoothed down the invisible wrinkles in his shirt and, while the camera continued to roll, plucked his phone from his pocket smoothly and pressed a button.

 

"Hello, Mr. Baker. Robert here. Yeah, no, I am. But we're leaving. Mr. Thomas has been quite rude and it would be a personal insult to continue with such a cockroach of a man. Absolutely, I understand. We would be more than amenable to interviewing with another of your employ. Yes sir. You too."

 

The phone was slipped easily back into his pocket seconds before Mr. Thomas' phone began to ring. 

 

Robert gave him a wink. "You're gonna wanna answer that." He motioned for Chris to stand and began to lead him from the room. The feed for the live interview cut just as Mr. Thomas dove for Chris, a murderous look upon his face.

 

Your breath snagged in your throat, worry and anxiety racing through your chest. A cool sweat broke out over the back of your neck, tears pricking at your eyes already. But there was hardly time to panic as your phone lit up moments later once more, Chris' name flashing across the top.

 

_I'm okay. Be home soon. I'm sorry._

 

What on earth he felt he had to be sorry for was beyond you. Chris was the most amazing man you'd ever met--attentive, sweet, romantic, giving, altruistic....he basically was Steve Rogers, but with a frat boy playful side that you loved. 

 

Less than an hour later the door swooped open and in waltzed your husband and Robert, the latter of whom looked worried that he had somehow awoken the pregnancy Kraken and was about to vacation in Davey Jones's locker. 

 

Chris looked chagrined, a small bruise beginning to bloom on his otherwise perfect jawline. You nearly toppled over as you launched yourself at him, the blanket snagging around your legs like a serpent. 

 

He caught you against his chest, fingers carding softly through your hair with a shushing sound. 

 

"He _hit_ you?!" You screeched, already beginning to see red.

 

Chris laughed softly. "He did. But I'm alright. He might need to avoid cameras for a while though." 

 

Your eyes warmed and prickled with the threat of new tears. "Oh, Chris. You hit him back? Won't you be in trouble? What about Mar--"

 

His lips on yours silenced your argument. "Don't worry, baby. Taken care of. I couldn't let him get away with that. She is my daughter!"

 

You bit back a smile. "Of course she is, you meatball." 

 

Robert shifted for the door, drawing your attention to him.

 

"And where do you think you're going?!"

 

He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "I...well...you see...and..."

 

You launched yourself at him in a hug. "Are staying for dinner." You told him sharply, trying to fight back your smile. "And I'm hoping you'd be amenable to discussing being a godfather. But first, excuse us a moment." 

 

Taking Chris' hand you dragged him into the kitchen to kiss him soundly once more. Dutifully you got an ice pack for the bruise and he took it without complaint, still eyeing you as if you were about to yank his ears off for being so out of control. 

 

"This is actually perfect timing." You beamed suddenly, stealing the breath from his lungs as you floated about the kitchen. When you returned to his side a moment later and plopped a stack of papers in front of him he frowned. 

 

"Are you about to ask for a divorce?" He choked. 

 

There was no stopping the snort that bubbled up from within you. "You really are a meatball, you know?" You shook your head. "These papers are adoption papers."

 

If possible he frowned even deeper. "Sweetheart, you want a third? I mean..shouldn't we wait until the second is born first?"

 

Barely, just barely, you resisted the urge to slap him. "No, you oaf. They're for you to adopt D/N. All they need is your signature. What do you say we make it official, Dad?" 

 

His mouth dropped open much as yours had, his eyes shining with tears. "He signed away his rights, like we wanted. I just...I didn't want to say anything until I had these."

 

A tear rolled down his cheek, but still he said nothing. Worry began to prickle at you once more. "Chris? Say something, please."

 

He sniffled. "You got a pen?" 

 

Signing those papers was the happiest moment of his life, and he wasn't shy to admit it. It might have hurt, your wedding being second, if not for how happy the moment had made you too. Chris had finally, officially, adopted your beautiful daughter, making her rightfully his in the eyes of the law.

 

Your belly was swollen with new life, and Robert quietly eavesdropped outside the kitchen---wiping tears from under his signature purple sunglasses. The only moment that would top it would be telling your daughter together. 

 

Well, that and maybe....

 

You winced softly as you settled a white envelope next to the papers between breathless, happy kisses with Chris. "There's, ah, one more thing. I did the genetic testing--the doctor recommended it, probably for the money.." you laughed. 

 

Chris's face turned serious once more, his palm settling over your belly. "Is everything okay? The baby is okay, right?"

 

Your hand settled over his, lips trembling into a watery smile. 

 

"He's perfect, Chris." 

 

His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. "We...we're having a boy?" He breathed breathlessly, swooping in to steal another kiss. You laughed against his mouth. "Yeah, we're having a boy."

 

There was a soft sob from around the wall, starling both you and Chris from your happy bubble. Robert stepped around the wall, still sniffling. 

 

"Sorry, I tripped and overheard it all. I just wanna say Robert is an excellent name for a boy. Good, strong family name." 

 

The two of you laughed boisterously, too happy to care that he had "intruded" on the private moment. Chris rolled his eyes playfully, "Uh uh. You can't be godfather and have him be your namesake. That's just greedy." He teased. 

 

Robert waved him off. "We will have to see if you're singing the same tune after I throw you the best gender reveal ever! I'm gonna need my best little helper, though. Speaking of, where is the cherub?"

 

"Oh, at his mother's with Dodger. But after that interview I expect she should be here any mom--"

 

There was a sharp knocking at the door. "Christopher Robert!" 

 

You had to bite your lip hard to hold back a peal of laughter. "Go on," you urged, giving him a push. "Go tell her about her newest grandson, before she has a conniption." 

 

As soon as you and Robert joined the mix, Chris already swinging your daughter around happily, he shared the news with a nod of your approval.

 

Amidst the noise---Lisa's happy squeals, your daughter's groans that it just had to be a boy, Robert's phone clicking away as he snapped photos, to Chris' loud laughter--you had never felt happier, more at ease, and more at home than you did right then. 

 

Until Dodger bounded in, happily circling the crowd of you before perching himself directly in front of you to protect the swollen belly he had come to guard as his own. Your heart tripled in size, warmed you right down to your toes. 

 

It was messy, imperfect, and more than a little crazy----but it was yours. You shared a look with Chris, both of your eyes shining with love and contentment. You couldn't wait for him to let the little girl in his arms know that she was his for 'real' now, that he was always going to be her daddy. 

 

And, when he did finally tell her and she worried the baby would still be loved more he had cracked your heart wide open to fit the love you had for him in the confines of your chest, with his response. 

 

"Never gonna happen, princess. If anything, the baby should be worried about you. You made me a daddy, so you're always gonna be first in my heart." He winked at you to reassure he wouldn't actually have a favorite. 

 

"Even before mommy?" She had gasped, and it was nearly impossible for you to keep yourself hidden as you bit down on a laugh. 

 

Chris guffawed, scoffed at her line of questioning. "Of course before mommy, jelly bean. Don't tell her, but she's third. Just above Dodger." He laughed as the pillow you tossed smacked him in the face, and Dodger gave an indignant bark. 

 

There was no real anger. After all, he was third on your list too. He just didn't realize it yet. 


End file.
